Lonely hearts ads
Frieda Fruitcake writes: Sadly, it has to be admitted that there are people that would rather like to demand a receipt and throw the gift of singleness straight back at the Lord! Some have tragically even gone down the route of placing a lonely hearts ad in the secular publication, the London Review of Books. Whilst I do not condone such behaviour - obviously - I must admit that even I might be tempted by some of the following sweet-talking Romeos at a vulnerable moment. Oh charm, how deceptive thou art! How we must guard our hearts against smooth-tongued heathens such as these!
"Must all the women in my life take the witness stand? Serial embezzler, gangster, fly-tipper and - crucially for the prosecution against an otherwise watertight defence - bigamist (M, 48) WLTM easy-going, dizzy fems to 50 who don't ask too many questions (it's a busy trip - I'll be back on Tuesday)."
"Will you sleep with me? Knowing is half the battle. Man, neither the time not the inclination for subtleties."
"I like my women the way I like my kebabs. Found by surprise after a drunken night out and covered in too much tahini. Before long I'll have discarded you on the pavement of life, but until then you're the perfect complement to a perfect evening. Man, 32. Rarely produces winning metaphors."
"List your ten favourite albums. I don't want to compare notes, I just want to know if there's anything worth keeping when we finally break up. Practical, forward-thinking man, 35."
"My finger on the pulse of culture, my ear to the ground of philosophy, my hip in the medical waste bin of Glasgow Royal Infirmary."
"Sinister-looking man with a face that only a mother would love. Great for dimly-lit romantic meals. Better in those Welsh villages where the electricity can't be guaranteed."
"Mature gentleman, 62, aged well, noble grey looks, fit and active, sound mind and unfazed by the fickle demands of modern society seeks...damn it, I have to pee again."
"Save it - anything you've got to say can be said to my lawyer. But if you're not my ex-wife, why not write to Box no. 5377."
"My Christmas Day TV scheldule includes a pause in transmission at 3.52pm for me to cry into the sleeve of the cardigan I bought myself. Unless you want to meet up and make crazy post-turkey love? No? No? Man, 34"
"Don't let distance come between us. Or metal bars. Or restricted access. Write now to bubbly (others say "Maximum Security" but what do they know?) F, 34."
"Blah, blah, whatever. Indifferent woman. Go ahead and write. Like I care."
"Medication free after all these years! Join me (anxious, overweight, self-harming flautist, F, 34) for congratulatory drink (or seven) in side-ward of nation's finest."
"Christmas all alone? Unwrapping presents you gave yourself? Your troubles are over in the form of obnoxious, drunkard uncle for hire (62). Belches the national anthem in three octaves, scratches inappropriately and is seemingly never satisfied by your very best efforts. Is dinner ready yet - and if not, why not? December will be magic again at Box no. 5610."
"You were reading the BBC in-house magazine on the Jubilee line, I was coughing hot tea through my nostrils. Surely you can't have forgotten?"
"Shy, ugly man, fond of extended periods of self-pity, middle-aged, flatulent and overweight, seeks the impossible."
"This personal column has been poorer without me, so here I am again - hairy-backed Wiltshire troll, 56, still searching for that special lady with no sense of touch or smell, and a capacity for overwhelming compromise in certain lifestyle choices."
"I am an accountant."
"Must all the women in my life take the witness stand? Serial embezzler, gangster, fly-tipper and - crucially for the prosecution against an otherwise watertight defence - bigamist (M, 48) WLTM easy-going, dizzy fems to 50 who don't ask too many questions (it's a busy trip - I'll be back on Tuesday)."
"Will you sleep with me? Knowing is half the battle. Man, neither the time not the inclination for subtleties."
"I like my women the way I like my kebabs. Found by surprise after a drunken night out and covered in too much tahini. Before long I'll have discarded you on the pavement of life, but until then you're the perfect complement to a perfect evening. Man, 32. Rarely produces winning metaphors."
"List your ten favourite albums. I don't want to compare notes, I just want to know if there's anything worth keeping when we finally break up. Practical, forward-thinking man, 35."
"My finger on the pulse of culture, my ear to the ground of philosophy, my hip in the medical waste bin of Glasgow Royal Infirmary."
"Sinister-looking man with a face that only a mother would love. Great for dimly-lit romantic meals. Better in those Welsh villages where the electricity can't be guaranteed."
"Mature gentleman, 62, aged well, noble grey looks, fit and active, sound mind and unfazed by the fickle demands of modern society seeks...damn it, I have to pee again."
"Save it - anything you've got to say can be said to my lawyer. But if you're not my ex-wife, why not write to Box no. 5377."
"My Christmas Day TV scheldule includes a pause in transmission at 3.52pm for me to cry into the sleeve of the cardigan I bought myself. Unless you want to meet up and make crazy post-turkey love? No? No? Man, 34"
"Don't let distance come between us. Or metal bars. Or restricted access. Write now to bubbly (others say "Maximum Security" but what do they know?) F, 34."
"Blah, blah, whatever. Indifferent woman. Go ahead and write. Like I care."
"Medication free after all these years! Join me (anxious, overweight, self-harming flautist, F, 34) for congratulatory drink (or seven) in side-ward of nation's finest."
"Christmas all alone? Unwrapping presents you gave yourself? Your troubles are over in the form of obnoxious, drunkard uncle for hire (62). Belches the national anthem in three octaves, scratches inappropriately and is seemingly never satisfied by your very best efforts. Is dinner ready yet - and if not, why not? December will be magic again at Box no. 5610."
"You were reading the BBC in-house magazine on the Jubilee line, I was coughing hot tea through my nostrils. Surely you can't have forgotten?"
"Shy, ugly man, fond of extended periods of self-pity, middle-aged, flatulent and overweight, seeks the impossible."
"This personal column has been poorer without me, so here I am again - hairy-backed Wiltshire troll, 56, still searching for that special lady with no sense of touch or smell, and a capacity for overwhelming compromise in certain lifestyle choices."
"I am an accountant."
posted by Captain Sensible at 6:50 PM
1 Comments:
Can we post our own lonely hearts here please?
Christian woman, gifted with singleness, seeks more service activities to fill the gap in lonely life. Babysitting opportunities for married couples who want to go on "date night" particularly appreciated, to make up for having no child of her own.
Likes: Brotherly/sisterly asexual fellowshipping. Dislikes: Romance, love songs/films/books, public shows of affection from married couples, being surrounded by children, holidays, or anything else that might remind her of what she is missing in her sad and solitary life.
Thanks! Hope I get a good response!
:)
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